CAE Reading and Use of English Part 5

You are going to read an article about a visit to Paris. For questions 31-36 choose the answer (A, B, C or D) which you think fits best according to the text.

The perfect fifth

It was snowing. Nothing unusual there, really – snow in Paris in February. It was simply that in my memory Paris had always been bathed in a spring sunshine that dappled the waters of the Seine and warmed the neck of my guitar. I’ve recently found myself reflecting a fair amount on the nature of memory. Why, for instance, do our memories usually hold on to the best images, idealising events and scenes, and push the darker ones into the shadows, where they lie, undeleted and only ready for scrutiny should we wish to go there? My mental image bank of Paris didn’t quite go so far as to completely idealise my student year in the city, but it got close.

The cold and the icy rain met us head on as we exited the Gare du Nord station. One Paris illusion gone. Not an inch of blue sky.

‘Are we getting the Metro?’ Ellie asked, her voice rising above the noise of the surging crowd.

‘Metro on strike – all day. Here, over here!’ a loud voice insisted, and a blue gloved hand grabbed Ellie’s arm, another lifted her bag. I would normally have reacted to this unwanted contact, but wrongfooted by the weather and wiped out by the journey from the UK, I followed the taxi driver and Ellie to his small car, its windows hardly visible through the settling snowflakes. My first sight of Paris had been from a taxi. The driver had dropped me at my lodgings in the fifth arrondissement after taking me on a ‘Paris by night’ sightseeing tour, entertaining me all the while with anecdotes and information about the various sights; he’d wanted to show off the city he loved. Might this driver do the same for Ellie, on this her first visit? No. We ended up having a tremendous argument about his proposed inflated fare, in the road, in the snow, with our cases lifted in and out of the boot as the negotiations progressed. Another memory compromised.

A crawl through the heart of the city to the beat of car horns and the steady swish of wipers on the windscreen, and then we were crossing the Seine and onto the Boulevard Saint-Michel.

I purposely kept my eyes straight ahead, not quite yet ready to see the damage. That would be faced later. In the meantime, my spirits lifted; we were on familiar territory, the fifth arrondissement. My breath caught, and neither the snow nor the taxi driver could stop the smile I felt creep onto my face. We offloaded our luggage at the hotel and I practically dragged Ellie around the corner and into the evening world of the Quartier Latin.

Time had passed since I’d last been here, and familiar landmarks had been replaced; my favourite musty old bookstore, where chemistry books used to rub shoulders with books of poetry, was now a souvenir shop selling mini Eiffel Towers and bright T-shirts. But nothing can erase an atmosphere, and the narrow lanes were still buzzing with an underlying edge of nonconformity.

Before, the sound of different accents used to come from the competing invitations of waiters outside the many small restaurants. Now, it came from the tourists who shared the streets with locals and students. The various intonations created an exciting soundtrack to a whole new language. Great artistic and literary rebels had talked controversy in these cafes and streets. A sense of anarchy and chaos still echoed, and I imagine always will at some level. It’s at the heart of the quartier. My memory hadn’t cheated me on that.

Then it was time, and as we rounded the last corner to bring us back onto the banks of the Seine, I looked up at the Notre Dame Cathedral, blackened from the terrible fire in 2019. However well you prepare, the initial shock of seeing scaffolding rising over the roof and partially obscuring the dark eyes of windows is sharp. I’d photographed the glorious building in the spring sunshine all those years ago. Today I raised my camera to record another view. I’d expected my heart to be heavy, as it had been when the first news images of the fire raced round the world, but what I actually felt was a strange relief. The scaffolding wasn’t symbolic of destruction, but it held a promise that the cathedral would recover. I was glad I had returned. My memories may have been dented a little, but not irreparably. The fifth was still the most fascinating arrondissement in Paris for me. Not perfect, but nearly.

31 When talking about memory in paragraph 1, the writer is
A sure that individual memories fade too quickly.
B confused about its unreliability.
C concerned that some events disappear forever.
D aware that he remembers what he’s seen rather than heard.

32 What does the writer say about his reaction to the taxi driver outside the station?
A He was conscious of reacting uncharacteristically.
B He was surprised to learn about the difficult transport situation.
C He resented the man’s assumption that he was rich.
D He was reluctant to consider taking a taxi.

33 Why does the writer mention the ‘cases’ (underlined) in paragraph 4?
A to emphasise how much luggage they had
B to illustrate how he was trying to get a lower fare
C to point out how unhelpful the driver was
D to indicate how the weather was changing

34 What does underlined ‘that’ refer to in paragraph 6?
A the route the taxi driver takes
B a return journey through the centre of Paris
C the reason he had brought Ellie to Paris
D a potentially difficult experience

35 The writer mentions a bookstore to show that
A buildings reflect the people who have used them.
B his memory had sadly failed him again.
C the essence of the area was the atmosphere.
D places like this had to move on and not live in the past.

36 In the final paragraph the writer suggests the scaffolding
A hid the worst of the structural damage
B was an ugly reminder of the power of fire
C was the sign of a hopefully positive outcome
D provided an interesting subject for photography

For this task: Answers with explanations :: Vocabulary